


Soft Hands

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: M/M, Substance Abuse, carbon monoxide poisoning, carbon monoxides a bitch, charlie's dumb but we love him anyways, huffing paint, lots of implied stuff but not so graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Charlie isn't allowed in the basement after hours, but when you can't read the rules, you don't have to follow them. (AKA carbon monoxides a bitch but Charlie is too)





	Soft Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [me](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=me).



The bar was meant to be empty after closing in the same way most functioning businesses were. No one walking in and out through the door, no one at the bar receiving drinks, and especially no one in the basement with a mess of red spray paint plastered in between individual beard hairs. Frank had clearly explained this to Charlie many times, even going as far as to print out a poster reminding everyone of the rule. It read “No bullshit after hours”. It’s a good thing Charlie can’t read, especially not while whacked out on paint fumes. 

The short man was slumped against a support beam with his legs splayed out on the ground, broken carbon monoxide detector sitting dormant above his head. Charlie felt like he was about to pass out. Whether it was the heavy and every growing amount of deadly gas gathering around him, or the red paint making his brain all stupid, it remained unclear from the moment Charlie lost consciousness to the second he was being slapped awake by an oddly smooth hand. He woke up, but only barely. Someone was yelling and he’d prefer to miss something like that. 

“— you are on  _ thin ice  _ little man,” the loud voice said in a harsh tone. Charlie rolled over and pressed his face into what felt like old carpet. The basement wasn’t carpeted, but the texture brought lucidity and made him feel a little bit better. The smooth hand grabbed his arm and yanked him up.

“Charlie! Wake up dumbass, you better not get any of your shitty spray paint on my carpet. You’re lucky I found you and not Frank, he's not  _ nearly  _ as gracious or forgiving as me.” 

Charlie brought an arm to his mouth and rubbed, scrunching up his face in discomfort as dried paint pulled his hair. He cracked an eye open and was met immediately with Dennis’s heavy stare. 

“Oh- ay, wa… ing on?” Charlie’s words were completely slurred and broken up; his buzz hadn’t quite worn off and it left his head shrouded in a thick sheen of fog. 

“What’s ‘ _ going on’  _ is that you passed out in the basement and I had to lug your fat ass up a flight of stairs so you wouldn’t get caught.” Dennis was pretty pissed; he had that sharp serial killer look in his eye that he got when there was no one was around that expected perfection. 

Charlie tried to stand up but fell back onto his knees before making it to full height. His stomach churned and he must've made some kind of a face because Dennis grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged Charlie to the bathroom, where he promptly emptied a whole can’s worth of half-digested cat food from his stomach and into the toilet. 

“Charlie that's revolting,” Dennis sneered. “I bring you shelter and this is the thanks I get? I would’ve been better off leaving you alone in that stupid basement.” 

He probably would've cared more if he weren't preoccupied trying to remember how to properly use his mouth to form words. The room was spinning and every time he licked his lips everything tasted like paint. Charlie wiped at his mouth again, and this time he could feel the bile and paint blend together in his beard. Dennis made a disgusted sound from behind him and next thing Charlie knew, he was being waterboarded. 

Charlie tried to gargle out that he didn’t have any information, but there was a clear disconnect between his brain and mouth, because all that came out was Dennis’s voice telling him to shut up and sit still. A wet washcloth dragged across his mouth and Charlie could feel himself drowning. The cloth left and a hand replaced it, soft, slender fingers pressed gently against his chapped lips. 

“Dude, breathe through your nose.” 

Charlie did and it was a perfectly pleasant experience from there on out aside from the fact his body wasn’t working and he couldn’t feel any of his limbs. Another washcloth, this time a dry one, wiped his mouth a final time and then it was over. He licked his lips and everything tasted like soap. A considerable upgrade. He finally managed to get his eyes open and saw a blurry Dennis stood above him with fluorescent bathroom lights shining a halo around his head. 

“What’s wrong with your right now?” Dennis asked, although there wasn’t any recognizable concern in his voice. “Did you only huff paint, or did you get into the bleach again because Frank will kill you if we have to place another order.” 

“-aint,” Charlie slurred, startled momentarily by the sound of a new voice in the room.

“You’re  _ waaay  _ more whacked than usual. How long were you in the basement for, an hour?” 

Charlie thought about it for roughly forty seconds before weakly holding up six fingers in front of his face. 

“Six? Hours? Holy shit dude, you’ve definitely got carbon monoxide poisoning. I know we cleared it up a little bit, but you shouldn’t be down there that long.” 

“Six,” Charlie confirmed squinting his eyes to try and see Dennis better. The man was fading around the edges. 

Dennis didn’t appear too worried about it though, because Chalie felt himself being pulled to his feet and wobbled for a second before one of his arms was tugged roughly around Dennis’s shoulders for support. He leaned into the taller man a bit too much and nearly sent Dennis tipping over, but they made it out of the bathroom in one piece. 

Charlie was personally ready to call it quits once they made it into the hall, but he was dragged all the way back to Dennis’s room and tossed onto the bed. His head bounced on the mattress upon impact and it gave him some minor whiplash. He groaned deeply and closed his eyes, the dull ache in his head getting momentarily worse. When his eyes opened again Dennis was standing above him, expression completely faded into his face. Charlie was honestly kind of worried the guy would blur out of existence. 

Dennis reached out a fuzzy looking arm and pressed something cold and smooth up against Chalie’s lips.

“Drink.” 

He parted his lips after a couple seconds of trying before forgot halfway through what he was meant to be doing. Water dribbled out of his mouth and Dennis quickly pulled the glass away and tapped Charlie’s mouth shut to keep the remaing water inside. 

“Swallow.” 

For a second Charlie could have sworn Dennis’s eyes shined as he managed to do so. Apparently, carbon monoxide poisoning and huffing paint didn’t mix well together, because Charlie felt himself starting to slip out of consciousness. A soft hand slapped him awake. 

“If you fall asleep right now and die, I will be so pissed. My kind nature and good grace will not be wasted on your dumbass going to hell. Here, open your mouth,” Dennis had something in his hand, and Charlie was far too busy trying to discern what it was to remember to listen. 

Dennis huffed, clearly annoyed and getting sick of dealing with Charlie’s poisoned mind’s bullshit. A single smooth hand wrapped beneath Charlie’s chin and onto his cheeks, easeing his mouth open in a firm grip. Two small oval things, presumably pills, and about a tablespoon of water flushed into his open mouth. Charlie tried to cough as the water hit the back of his throat, but his mouth was forced shut before he could manage. 

“Charlie, swallow the god damn pills or I swear I’ll kick your sorry ass onto the street.”

He swallowed a final time, and the next thing Chalie knew, he was waking up in someone's bed with a strong headache but overall feeling significantly more lucid than the night before. He could recall bits and pieces, but seeing Dennis laying next to him on the bed, Charlie hoped Mac hadn’t come in and gotten the wrong idea… or maybe the right idea? Charlie wasn’t entirely sure what happened, but he was content with whatever. Maybe he had finally gotten Denis to try huffing paint with him. 

It seemed possible. Charlie couldn’t be sure of anything, but the bits of smudged red spray paint on the man’s lips almost said enough. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I thirst for comments, give me a drink


End file.
